


Songbird of Goshen

by TheEigthPillarGeneral



Category: The Prince of Egypt (1998)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Character Death, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Slavery, referenced Infanticide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEigthPillarGeneral/pseuds/TheEigthPillarGeneral
Summary: Since she was a girl, all she has known is loss. When she starts working in the construction sites, she turns to singing as a way of coping with the harsh cruelty all around her. It is through her songs that she meets the first and only love of her life, and it is through song that she endures her greatest loss.Even so, Yocheved would never stop singing.
Relationships: Amram/Yocheved | Jochebed
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Songbird of Goshen

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfic for this movie. I'm absolutely in love with this movie, and I just had to write something for it, and this idea had been stuck in my head, so here it is. I wanted to write about Yocheved, one of the most beautiful characters in the movie, and about how she fell in love with Amram, so here is a character-study/one-shot about Yocheved and Amram.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

She’s only ten-years-old when her beloved father dies.

She’ll never forget the day they told her.

It’s well after dusk, and the men are finally coming home to Goshen from the construction site. Yocheved is carrying an urn of water from the well when she sees some of her father’s comrades standing in front of her home. Her mother is kneeling right outside the door, her body shaking with sobs.

Her stomach twists slightly as a wave of dread washes over her, and she desperately prays for anything but the worst.

As she gets closer, she quickly realizes that her father is missing from the crowd of men. Dor, one of her father’s friends, turns to look at her, and that’s when she sees the grimness of his tired eyes.

“There was an accident,” Dor tells her, his voice weary. “The scaffolding at the temple had weakened severely and collapsed. Your father… he was crushed under the alabaster bricks.”

Something crashes within Yocheved. Not just in her heart, but in her very soul.

She doesn’t remember what else the man had said to her. All she remembers is the urn of water slipping from her fingers and crashing onto the ground as her knees weaken, as tears slide down her cheeks, as it sinks in that her dear father is gone forever.

No more late-night conversations. No more stories told on sleepless nights. He’ll never see her married now.

She and her mother are all alone.

* * *

She’s sixteen when she starts working among the other slaves in building temples and monuments dedicated to gods and Pharaohs. Her mother has already passed away last month; the stress of the harsh labour was too much for her frail health.

The construction sites are dangerous places. If the strain from the harsh labour and heavy loads doesn’t kill you, then surely a beating or whipping from an angry taskmaster will.

In fact, more people would rather die out in the pits rather than at the taskmasters’ hands.

Yocheved is one of the few women in the site, and as such, she’s made to chisel away at walls of pure white limestone. 

The first month or so, the sounds of hammers clinking away on stone, people pounding sand into monuments, the cracking of whips, and cries of pain are torture to Yocheved’s ears. She wonders how her parents managed not to go crazy from such horrific sounds.

She voices this out loud one day, when the taskmaster is whipping an old man for dropping a sack of sand.

Hava, an older woman, just shakes her head with a sigh. “You get used to it after a while, my dear,” she says sadly. “The best thing you can do is not watch.”

It’s not right. That man shouldn’t have been made to carry something so heavy upon his back.

But Yocheved knows better than to say it out loud. The taskmasters are ruthless, and she’s seen the way some of them fix their attention on the women who disobey them. If she says anything, she’ll be the one tied to a post and flogged. Or even worse…

No. Just look away, she tells herself.

Yocheved turns back to the wall and hammers the chisel, trying not to flinch at the crack of the whip and the old man’s agonized cries.

When she hazards a glance at him again, his back is covered in bleeding lash marks, and he’s being carried away by some other Hebrews.

That night, she hears his cries ringing in her ears, and her heart hurts. A sob spills from her lips, and tears slide down her cheeks as she rolls onto her side. Her heart aches as she recalls the old man being brutally whipped, and suddenly, she wishes that her father was here to hug her.

Never has she felt so alone in her home until now.

 _“Hush now, my baby… be still, love, don’t cry…”_ She whispers her mother’s lullaby to herself, desperately trying to stop the tears from falling.

She can’t even make it halfway through the song before her voice cracks and dissolves into quiet sobs. All she can do now is pray to God that the old man doesn’t suffer too long.

* * *

Ever since she was young, she has always loved to sing. She sang with her mother as they washed clothes in the river, as they did other domestic chores. She sang with her father as she tended to his wounds in the evenings, and as he sang some of his old songs for her as well.

Singing was what brought them all closer even during the darkest of times.

Singing is also what helps Yocheved get through a day of hard labour.

It starts after two days of trying to block out the pained cries of the other Hebrews around her. When she is made to go and get water from the Nile, Yocheved starts to sing while filling the urn. She sings an old folk song that her parents used to sing to her, her voice quiet at first. But as she gets lost in the memories, her voice becomes slightly louder, loud enough to draw the attention of the other women.

For a moment, the other women are surprised, but they don’t try and stop her.

Besides, her voice is truly lovely, and her singing actually boosts their morale a little bit. So they encourage her to keep on singing.

As they walk back to the site, Yocheved continues to sing while carrying her urn of water. Her voice catches the attention of the other Hebrews, who are almost disbelieving.

How can anyone even sing in such a precarious location? What if the taskmasters get to her?

Surprisingly, the taskmasters don’t do anything about it. They let her sing.

As she chisels away at the walls, Yocheved sings a variety of Hebrew songs: stories, drinking songs, anything she knows to try and get her going through the day. Occasionally, some other men and women join in on singing with her, perhaps to also boost their own morale.

It becomes a routine for her. Yocheved sings when collecting water, carrying it back, and when working away at the walls. Her voice often catches the attention of other Hebrews and taskmasters, who will listen to her for a moment before continuing their work.

Eventually, even some Egyptian peasants and labourers also pause their own work at the river just to hear her sing. From then on, she’s known as ‘the Songbird of Goshen’, as her voice can move even the hardest of hearts to tears.

She will admit that it’s strange how the taskmasters don’t try and threaten her to shut up.

But when she looks around, she notices just how much quicker the Hebrews are working while she sings.

“You have a beautiful voice, Yocheved,” Hava tells her that evening. “You don’t know just how much it’s been helping us.”

“Is that so?” Yocheved asks, surprised.

“Because of your songs, we’re able to work harder and faster,” Dor adds. “Music is a real morale-booster, don’t you know? So please, don’t ever give up on singing, Yocheved.”

It’s rare for a work day to end on such a high note, and that night, they celebrate in Goshen. Dor and his friends bring out their worn instruments and play familiar melodies, and Yocheved sings along to the music as the other Hebrews dance.

She hasn’t smiled like this in a while now. So she makes a promise to herself.

No matter what happens, she will never stop singing.

* * *

Who could believe that a mistake could result in meeting _him?_

A stray rock catches her foot, and Yocheved’s song breaks as she stumbles too quickly. While she’s fine, the urn of water slips from her head and falls, shattering upon impact and spilling water everywhere.

“Yocheved!” Hava rushes to her. “Are you all right?”

“Get back to work!” An angry taskmaster marches over to the two women, shoving Hava aside and yanking Yocheved’s arm, hauling her up from the ground.

Yocheved flinches. “It… It was an accident…” she tries to explain.

“Then you shouldn’t have been singing, Hebrew!” the taskmaster shouts, glaring at her as he shoves her back to the ground. “Maybe I should give you ten lashes to keep you quiet!”

“Please forgive me, I’ll go back and get some more water!” Yocheved pleads.

“Are you speaking back to me?” the taskmaster threatens.

It’s futile. Yocheved just bows her head, waiting for the excruciating agony of the whip against her back.

It never comes.

She hears a deeper grunt of pain from above her, and she opens her eyes in surprise.

Kneeling right in front of her, with blood sliding down his own bare back, is another Hebrew man.

“Wha…?” Yocheved whispers.

The man opens his eyes and smiles at her, despite his own pain. “You alright?” he asks.

Now the taskmaster is enraged. “How dare you…” he snarls, bringing the whip down upon her saviour.

Yocheved watches, stunned, as a crowd begins to gather. The man endures eight lashes upon his back before the taskmaster notices the crowd and barks at everyone to get back to work.

As the man collapses onto the ground, the taskmaster turns his glare on Yocheved, who flinches again.

“You got lucky this time, woman,” he tells her. “Take him back to the village. And don’t you let me see you tripping on your own feet again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Yocheved says, carefully helping her saviour onto his feet.

She takes him back to her home in Goshen, and immediately starts tending to his wounds. Once he’s lying down on her mat, Yocheved wets an old rag and starts wiping the blood away from the wounds.

The man winces, but gives her a strained smile. “How are you doing?” he asks.

Yocheved looks at him incredulously. “How can you ask me that?” she asks him. “You’re the poor soul who was whipped by the taskmaster, yet you ask me of my own health?”

After cleaning and wiping the blood away from the lash marks, Yocheved gingerly applies some homemade salve onto the wounds to prevent infection and exposure to other pathogens in the air. 

Every now and then, the man winces in pain, and Yocheved tries to be gentler on his wounds. As she rubs the salve into his wounds, she can’t help but notice how strong his muscles are.

A quiet sigh slips from her lips. “Thank you for saving my life,” she says as she bandages his wounds with gauze. “Why did you do it, though?”

A small smile tugs the corners of the man’s lips. “Consider it my way of repaying you for singing,” he tells her. “Without your songs, I would’ve gone mad a long time ago.”

Yocheved’s cheeks become warmer as she fastens his bandages. It suddenly occurs to her just how beautiful this man is when he smiles.

“What is your name?” she asks.

“My name’s Amram,” the man tells her. “What is yours?”

She looks up at him and smiles. “Yocheved,” she says.

* * *

Ever since that day, Amram has been living with her in Goshen, and Yocheved couldn’t be more grateful.

He is kind to her, and always finds a way to make her smile and laugh. Every morning, he helps her draw water from the well, and when she goes to the riverbank to do laundry, he helps her hang the clothes to dry.

Over time, Yocheved comes to notice just how handsome Amram is. With his gentle eyes, his bright smile, and his tall, strong, yet lean physique, he practically towers over her.

That is something he just loves to tease her about.

“You know, if you’re ever tired, I’m always here to carry you home,” Amram teases her one evening. “Besides, you could easily fit in my arms.”

“Very funny,” Yocheved retorts dryly, placing his piece of bread in front of him. “I’m really not that short, Amram.”

Amram smiles cheekily. “Right. If you were that short, you’d have probably gotten more angry than the taskmaster by now,” he says.

She can’t help it. She laughs.

“Well, I hope I have a better temper than him,” she says, sitting down with her own piece of bread.

“Of course. You couldn’t hurt anyone even if you wanted to,” Amram points out.

Yocheved nods, smiling softly. “My father was the same way,” she says. “He was very gentle… perhaps too gentle. My mother used to tell me that I’m like him in every way.”

She tells him about her family, and he tells her about his. Like her, Amram also lost his parents much too young, and was made to work in the construction site as soon as his mother was buried.

And like her, he sometimes has nightmares about his parents’ deaths.

Amram sleeps right beside her on the mat, and Yocheved is slightly envious of how quickly he’s able to sleep. But as she closes her eyes, she hears his fearful murmurs as his body shivers in a childlike terror.

“Please, no…” he begs.

Yocheved’s heart hurts. Carefully, she places her hands on his shoulders and rubs them soothingly.

When she had nightmares as a girl, her mother would always sing her lullaby to her. Perhaps it might work with him.

 _“Hush now, my baby… be still love, don’t cry,”_ Yocheved sings softly. _“Sleep as you’re rocked by the stream…”_

Amram doesn’t wake up, but the fear in his face slowly disappears as he relaxes, and he stops shivering. By the time Yocheved finishes singing, he’s fast asleep, and whatever demons were tormenting him vanish.

She smiles softly, and then leans closer and presses a kiss upon his forehead. “Sweet dreams,” she murmurs before pressing her body close to his.

* * *

The day she realizes that she’s in love, it’s when she repays his kindness from that fateful day.

A year and a half has passed since Amram took the lashing for Yocheved, and they’ve only gotten much closer than before. Through the harsh labour, tending to each other’s wounds, telling stories, and singing songs to cheer each other up, they’ve both become very close friends.

Yocheved loves how safe she feels with Amram. He’s so protective and caring towards her, and he makes her feel so alive.

But at the same time, it shocks her as to how impulsive he can be. He doesn’t just roll over and take a beating, he’ll often throw in an insult or two before he’s beaten. Yocheved worries for his safety, especially since he’s so quick to hurl insults at taskmasters before he’s beaten. If he says the wrong thing one day, he might not be left alive.

One day, Yocheved is singing and chiselling away at the alabaster as always when she suddenly hears a loud commotion. There’s a few cracks of the whip, followed by angry shouting of a furious taskmaster, and she can’t help but turn to see what’s going on.

To her shock, Amram has grabbed the taskmaster’s wrist, stopping him from whipping an old woman.

As the old woman scrambles away, Amram is thrown to the ground.

Before she knows what she’s doing, Yocheved finds herself running towards the commotion.

“You dare grab my hand, Hebrew?!” the taskmaster snarls, tossing the whip to the side.

Amram just glares back at him. “That woman did nothing to be whipped by the likes of you,” he retorts. “Maybe try picking on someone your own size next time?”

“‘Next time’?” the taskmaster sneers, raising his fist. “How about right now?!”

Adrenaline rushes through Yocheved as she swiftly jumps between him and Amram, holding her arms out to shield him protectively as she regards the taskmaster defiantly.

“Yocheved…?” Amram whispers, stunned.

The taskmaster is stunned for a moment, but then he quickly glares at her. “Just what do you think you’re doing, woman?!” he demands.

“If you want to get to him, you’ll have to beat me first,” Yocheved tells him, her voice quiet but ringing with a firm defiance.

“Out of my way,” the taskmaster scoffs, trying to push her to the side.

Yocheved holds her ground, regarding him with an almost daring look in her eyes.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” she says, almost challenging.

Suddenly, his hand collides with her cheek, a loud slap echoing through the site as the force of it sends her to the ground.

The taskmaster sneers down at her and Amram. “This is a waste of my time, anyways,” he snarls. “Get back to work, now!”

As he marches off, Amram gently helps Yocheved to her feet, his eyes filled with worry. “Yocheved, are you alright?” he asks urgently.

Yocheved nods shakily, smiling despite the burning pain in her cheek. “I’m alright,” she says. “Let’s get back to work.”

Amram nods, gently caressing Yocheved’s cheek before he parts.

That evening, it’s Amram’s turn to fret over Yocheved.

“Why would you do that?” Amram asks her, gently wiping her cheek with a cold, wet rag. “You could’ve been beaten to death or tied to a pole and lashed! Just what were you thinking, Yocheved? Why would you endanger yourself for me?”

“So I could repay you for taking a lashing for me,” Yocheved tells him gently.

“But that’s not something worth trying to repay!” Amram insists. “What you did was dangerous! You’re lucky you only got struck across the cheek!”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t be insulting the taskmasters either!” Yocheved argues back. “You know just how quick they are to beat us, so why would you want to provoke them further? You also put your life in danger every single time you do that!”

“Yocheved-”

“No! You can’t keep doing that, Amram!” Yocheved insists, tears filling her eyes. “You don’t know how much it terrifies me when I see you confronting the taskmasters! I know you’re trying to protect your friends, but I get so scared that you’ll end up beaten to death if you say the wrong thing!”

“I just-”

“I’ve already lost my parents!” A sob spills from Yocheved’s lips. “I don’t want to lose you, Amram! Please understand! If you die… I’ll be all alone. And I don’t want to be alone anymore…”

Amram stares in shock as Yocheved begins to weep. Guilt rushes through him as he realizes just how much he’s made her worry for him, and he swiftly pulls her into his arms.

Yocheved holds him tightly, her body shuddering as she weeps silently.

“I’m so sorry, Yocheved,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry for making you worry. I… I had no idea you cared so much about me.”

Yocheved smiles tearfully. “I’ve cared about you since the day you saved my life,” she tells him. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again. Promise me you won’t leave my side, Amram?”

Smiling softly, Amram nods before leaning closer to her. “I promise,” he whispers. “I’ll always be by your side.”

With that, he closes the distance and gently captures her lips with his own.

Yocheved responds immediately, closing her eyes and kissing him back. His lips are so gentle against hers, and she finds herself getting lost in his warm embrace. Her heart pounds hard against her chest, and she’s never felt so safe and warm until now. Never has she felt something so strongly before, and she wants to feel this way forever.

* * *

Two years after that night, Yocheved and Amram get married.

Their wedding is at dusk, and while it’s not a grand celebration, it’s one of the happiest days of her life. Everyone in Goshen celebrates their wedding, and Yocheved and Amram dance and sing as Dor and his friends play marriage songs well into the night.

Yocheved cannot be happier to be married to a man she loves more than anything. But at the same time, she still fears him dying out in the construction fields, and when the dreaded morning sickness hits her, her worries become much stronger.

She cannot do heavy labour, now that she is with child. The older women advise her to stay in the village and do some more domestic tasks in the early months of her pregnancy. She also helps out in tending to the wounds of the men when they return to the village for the night.

She still sings while tending to their wounds, which provides much-needed levity at the end of the day.

For her sake, Amram no longer mouths off at taskmasters, but it kills him to only look away when he hears the crack of the whip and the cries of pain. More than once, he’s come home after seeing a friend getting beaten to death, and he always breaks down weeping in Yocheved’s arms.

All she can do is hold him close and sing to him.

Amram is out in the construction site when Yocheved’s water breaks.

The older women swiftly help her when she goes into labour, but she’s still scared. Yocheved remembers all the stories of mothers dying during childbirth, and she prays that she can deliver her baby safely.

By the time she gives birth, the sun is well below the horizon, and Yocheved is truly exhausted. Amram arrives just in time to hear the baby’s cries, and he quickly rushes to her side.

“How are you feeling?” he asks her.

Yocheved smiles shakily. “I’m tired,” she says. “But I think I’ll be okay.”

The midwife presents their new baby, now washed and swaddled in a blanket, to the new parents. “Congratulations,” she says with a smile. “It’s a girl.”

Yocheved takes her baby daughter into her arms, holding her close. “She’s so beautiful,” she whispers tearfully, watching her open her small eyes.

Amram smiles, and his eyes glisten with tears. “What should we name her?” he asks.

“Miriam,” Yocheved says. “For she is the child we’ve wished for so long.”

* * *

Right from a young age, Miriam closely resembles Yocheved: she has her eyes, her hair, and her lovely smile. But in terms of personality, she takes after Amram much more.

Miriam is as spirited and impulsive as Amram, even if she’s only two years old now, and Yocheved cannot help but worry what she’ll be like when she grows up. At this rate, Miriam might end up becoming as reckless as her father, and she tries to teach her to calm her urges.

She’s also as musical as Yocheved, who delights in teaching her how to sing. When Yocheved sings, Miriam joins in, clapping her hands or trying to sing along with her mother as best as she can.

Yocheved continues to tend to the injured Hebrews every evening, her songs providing comfort and tenderness that is much needed after a long day of harsh labour.

A year later, when Miriam is three years of age, Yocheved gives birth to her second child: a sweet little boy.

Amram is the one to name him, so he calls him ‘Aaron’.

Miriam is quick to become a proud big sister, and is always happy to watch over him and play with him when Yocheved is resting.

Aaron takes more after Amram in appearance, but in terms of personality, he takes after Yocheved more. He’s more gentle and shy, but Miriam doesn’t care about that. She’s quick to make sure he meets the other children, and it warms Yocheved’s heart to see how devoted she is to her little brother.

“They’re growing so fast, aren’t they?” Amram says, watching as Miriam helps Aaron take his first steps.

Yocheved nods with a smile. “They are,” she says, holding her arms out. “Come, Aaron! Come to Eema!”

Aaron smiles as he toddles towards Yocheved. For the first time, he walks without stumbling, and he walks right into Yocheved’s arms.

Miriam is the first one to start cheering. “You made it!” she cheers.

“You did it, Aaron!” Yocheved praises, kissing both his cheeks. “Good job!”

Aaron squeals and laughs, and Amram also kisses his cheeks while praising him.

That night, however, Yocheved cannot help but worry.

Miriam and Aaron have already been put to bed and are sleeping soundly, completely oblivious to the conversation between their parents.

“They’ll be working the construction sites like us when they’re of age,” Yocheved says softly. “But I don’t want them to go through what we did.”

Amram nods. “You’re right,” he says.

Yocheved sighs. “I wish we could give them a proper childhood,” she confesses. “I don’t want them to witness their friends dying or hearing horror stories about the cruel taskmasters.”

“We should try and have them enjoy the little things,” Amram suggests. “We may not be the Pharaoh and his family, but we can find happiness in even the smallest of things, right? Singing, dancing, and just spending time with one another… I’m sure they’ll be able to appreciate those things. But for now, let’s just focus on being there for them.”

He’s right. They’re still young right now, so she should focus on making sure that they are both loved and cared for by both parents.

“Thank you, Amram,” Yocheved whispers to him. “You always know how to calm me down.”

Amram just smiles. “No need to thank me,” he tells her.

* * *

Her third son is only two months old when she receives the worst news of her life.

It’s dusk, and there’s quite a commotion among the men returning home from the fields. Yocheved comes out to see what’s going on, only to stop in horror as she realizes that they’re carrying Amram.

“Amram…?” she whispers, horrified.

Amram is almost unrecognizable. He appears to have been whipped, beaten, and that’s probably only the surface of what he has endured.

Ezer, Amram’s friend, approaches Yocheved, his head bowed down. “I’m sorry, Yocheved,” he says. “The taskmaster watching over us… he was brutal. So much more than the other ones. Amram, he… he accidentally dropped a sack of straw and…”

A tug at her dress got her attention, and Yocheved looked down to see Miriam and Aaron beside her.

“What are you doing here?” Yocheved asks, trying to shield their eyes.

“Is that Abba?” Miriam asks softly. “What happened?”

Trying not to cry, Yocheved turns back to Ezer. “Is he…?”

“He’s still alive, but he’s very weak,” Ezer says.

“Bring him inside right now,” Yocheved tells him. “I’ll do my best to help him.”

They bring him into her hut with care, and Yocheved immediately gets to tending to his injuries. Her heart aches as she sees the extent and the severity of his wounds; they’re much worse than anything he’s suffered from, and in this moment, it becomes clear that he won’t make it through the night.

_God, please, if you can hear me… please have mercy upon my husband. Please, please don’t let him suffer._

As she cleans the blood away from him, Amram stirs slightly.

“Wha… What happened?” he croaks.

Tears fill Yocheved’s eyes. “I’m right here, my love,” she tells him. “I’m right here.”

A weak smile crosses Amram’s face. “I’m so sorry, Yocheved,” he whispers, cringing in pain.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Yocheved tells him, her voice hitching. “Please, just…” She doesn’t even know what she wants to say.

His heartbeat is getting weaker, and Yocheved feels the tears slide down her cheeks as she takes his hand. “Please don’t leave us,” she begs. “Don’t leave me, Amram.”

“Yocheved…” Amram murmurs, weakly holding her hand. “Sing for me?”

Yocheved nods shakily. _“Hush now, my baby… be still, love, don’t cry… sleep as you’re rocked by the stream…”_ Her voice is tearful and wavering as she gingerly holds him close to her. _“Sleep and remember, my last lullaby… so I’ll be with you, when you dream…”_

Amram breathes out one final time before he goes limp in her arms, the most faint of smiles upon his face.

That night, her sobs are heard throughout Goshen, as their songbird mourns the death of her first and only love.

* * *

A month later, something even worse happens.

The Pharaoh’s soldiers are storming through Goshen, ripping babies right out of their mothers' arms, cutting down those who try to fight back. The screams of mothers and babies alike ring through Yocheved’s ears as she, Miriam, and Aaron rush towards the Nile with the new baby in her arms.

It’s a dangerous chance, but a chance she has to take.

Yocheved has already lost her husband. She cannot bear to lose her youngest son now. But it’s a sacrifice she must make.

She sings her lullaby to the baby, lulling him to sleep as she places him in the basket. Once she’s placed the lid on top, she sets the basket adrift into the Nile, praying that he will have a safe journey, and be loved and cared for.

She tries to stay strong, she has to be strong for her children. As she leaves the riverbanks with Miriam and Aaron, she hears the footsteps of Pharaoh’s soldiers, and they hurry away from the shore, lest they be seen by the soldiers.

Yocheved's blood curdles when she hears the horrific sounds of screaming babies too young to know their fate in the Nile. All she can do is run faster, urging Miriam and Aaron to run as well.

Despite the horror she feels, Yocheved promises to herself that she will be strong. For Miriam. For Aaron. For Amram. And for her youngest son.

When she returns to the blood-stained streets in Goshen, howls of anguish fill her ears. Mothers weep and wail, mourning their babies’ deaths, and it’s a sound that will haunt Yocheved for the rest of her life. That, and the screams of all those babies thrown into the Nile.

So she sings her prayers to God, praying for mercy upon all the babies killed.

 _“Deliver us…”_ Yocheved prays softly as she finally lets the tears fall.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this fic, and I hope to be able to write some more soon! 
> 
> A note on Miriam's name: there isn't an exact meaning for her name, but among the possible meanings are "sea of bitterness", "rebelliousness", and "wished-for child". I went with the third meaning for this story.
> 
> Also, "Eema" means "Mama" and "Abba" means "Papa" in Hebrew.
> 
> Please let me know how I did, and have a good one!


End file.
